The Geary Series Boxed Set (60 page)

When Angie woke early the next morning, she looked around the room from her position in the bed. Hanging on the back of the door, on a wooden hanger was a black shift dress. She couldn’t read what the note pinned to the neck of the hanger said, but she thought of Alice in Wonderland, except this time it would say
wear me
.

Throwing back the duvet she looked at the bed and noticed the indent on the pillow next to hers and remembered that Mickey had snuggled into her back last night. She didn’t remember him leaving and almost dismissed he had arrived in the middle of the night.

Swinging her feet over to the ground, she contemplated the day she had ahead of her. She’d never been to a funeral before and wondered what she needed to do for Mickey. Angie showered and dressed casually to go and find Mickey and prepare some breakfast.

The house was quiet, only the grandfather clock could be heard as she descended the stairs. Reaching the upper ground floor, she listened again for any noise but still there was only ticking.

“Morning Angie, did you sleep ok?” Beverly asked from the foot of the stairs.

Angie grabbed hold of the banister to steady her feet, Beverly’s voice had startled her. She nodded, coming down the stairs to the housekeeper and waited for her next instruction.

“If you turn to your right, the morning room has breakfast laid out. If there is something you’d prefer, come down to the kitchen and I can make it for you.” Beverly moved out of her sight leaving her no chance to ask where Mickey was.

She followed the directions and entered a large light and airy room filled with paintings hanging on the wall. Each of the paintings was a portrait, and judging by the attire, the men and women wore, these dated back a couple of hundred years. The dark red carpet and gold coloured wallpaper gave the room a dated look and feel. The sideboard had a buffet of food, plates covered with cloches. As she lifted each one, a new food group was revealed and steam billowed out. Helping herself to bacon, mushrooms and scrambled egg, she sat herself at the dining table that could seat twelve. It had been a while since she had felt this lonely, not since she had arrived on her own in the UK.

Her curiosity overcame her manners and taking the plate with her toast, she moved around the room reading the nameplates that accompanied the paintings.

“They’re my ancestors, well not mine by blood, but by law I guess, they’re my family,” Mickey said, standing in the doorway.

His voice caused her to jump once more and she was thankful her toast had been eaten. The plate tipped for a moment and a few crumbs landed at her feet. She kneeled down to clear up her mess only to be helped up again with strong hands.

“Beverly will clean in here before the funeral, so don’t worry about a few crumbs.” He said.

Mickey had dressed ready for the funeral. Angie visibly swallowed when she caught sight of him in his full uniform. The blocks of colour above his left breast along with four medals transfixed her attention. She touched the medals with reverence, it was hard for her to imagine that the happy go lucky Mickey had seen combat.

“You look smart Mickey, I should go and get changed. Thank you for the dress, I could have brought one of my own, had I known.” Angie said, she didn’t move, waiting for him to offer a reason for the mystery visit.

“I worried that you wouldn’t come if you knew why, Lilly told me your size and I had Beverly collect the dress and low black heeled shoes for me. There should be coat hanging up in the wardrobe as well. Graveyards, in my experience, are always cold and dreary.”

He kissed her temple and left the room, Angie admired the rear view disappearing through the door and shook her head to clear her lust. Now wasn’t the time to think about sex with Mickey.

Mickey stood in the study hand in hand with Angie watching the funeral staff close the lid of his father’s coffin. He silently said goodbye to his dad and stepped back to allow them to leave. Squeezing Angie’s hand every four seconds in nervousness, he waited until they were left alone.

“Thank you for being here Angie.” He said.

“Of course,” she said, “I’ll be by your side all day.”

Mickey showed a brief smile and then put on his white military hat. He had a perfectly fitted uniform, spotless and pressed.

They left the study and walked into the hallway, Beverly joined behind them as they waited on the marble floor to be given the sign to leave the house. A member of the funeral home nodded his head and opened the front door wide to allow them to walk out. The scene outside assaulted Angie’s vision, and it brought tears to her eyes while it also broke her heart. The journey from the door to the funeral car was lined with uniformed Navy men and women, each with their arms rigidly straight next to their bodies. Their faces were solemn, looking straight ahead.

Mickey whispered his thanks as he passed them by. Angie and Beverly climbed into the back of the hearse reserved for family, followed by Mickey. Siobhan was already waiting in the car and hugged Mickey once he had settled in the seat. When their seat belts were clicked into place the funeral procession of two cars slowly drove through the streets of Dublin and out to the graveyard.

It took forty minutes to drive at the speed appropriate for a funeral car. The car was silent, each person in their own thoughts. Mickey still held Angie’s hand, pulsing his squeezes every few seconds. As the car turned right, through the black tall wooden gates of the grave site, Angie spotted more uniformed men and women. They lined the entrance, all the way as far as she could see to a small chapel on the other side of the graveyard. The cars came to a halt and the doors were opened for them and they climbed out. Mickey had been greeted by older men in uniform shaking his hand and some saluted to him. It was at this time that Angie worked out that Mickey had been an officer in the Navy. Her own father’s background had taught her about propriety in the ranks.

The funeral director spoke quietly to Mickey and he nodded his agreement and turned to Angie, Siobhan and Beverly.

“If you walk along this line of people you will get to the entrance of the chapel. Go on ahead and I’ll see you when I get there.” Mickey said, he turned his back to them and carried on talking to the funeral director.

Obediently they did as they were asked, as each step they made, the tears started to fall. Angie had never met the man they were burying but the effort of all these people here to pay their respects pulled at her heartstrings. There had to be an excess of two hundred service men and women in attendance.

Beverly, Siobhan and Angie entered the small chapel and took their places in the front pew, leaving room for Mickey. Once they were seated the rest of the congregation filtered in. It could only hold forty people and when Angie turned around, she saw that people were stood at the back and every seat had been taken.

Mickey and five other men carried the coffin into the chapel on their shoulders and rested it on the stands near the front. A large portrait of Mickey’s dad stood on an easel next to the coffin. He looked to be in his seventies, the picture was a formal pose that would make any chairman of the board proud. A wreath of red carnations had been placed on the top of the coffin and the service began with a hymn.

Mickey took his place next to Angie and resumed holding her hand, his nervous twitch still evident. It was the only clue she had to his distress. The service took thirty minutes and their footsteps were retraced. Mickey and his fellow bearers carried the coffin on their shoulders once more and exited the chapel. Angie, Siobhan and Beverly followed along with the rest of the other mourners and came back out into the sunlight. The sight she had blinded her, it wasn’t the sun that stunned her but the sea of mourners. While they were inside a set of speakers had been placed outside of the chapel for the congregation that couldn’t fit in the service. Hundreds of civilian people stood behind the rows of service men and women. This time they lined the path to the burial plot. The open ground stood next to the burial plot of Mickey’s mother. A fresh set of roses lay on her grave and the weeds had been removed from in between the stones that typically graced a gravesite. The funeral staff took the coffin from the pallbearers and placed it onto the green bands of material. The coffin was swiftly dropped into the grave and the vicar continued the service.

Mickey’s hand squeezed hard in Angie’s to the point of pain, she didn’t complain or pull her hand away. It was a simple act of support, she couldn’t know what he was experiencing as she had never experienced any death in her life. All her family were alive and well. She balked, when they dropped the coffin so fast, she expected a slow ascent into his resting place and felt the finality of the service.

The roar of the engines turned the cortege of mourner’s heads skyward, the sun shone brightly into their eyes. The fly pass of the ten fighter planes filled the sky with noise, the servicemen and women saluted until they were out of sight. Angie’s tears started to flow once more, the emotion of the day’s events became too much. This was her first funeral and the respect and formality swelled her heart and broke it over and over. Now more than ever, she wished she could have met this great man, who raised Mickey on his own.

Angie stood by Mickey’s side, shuffling along, no more than a foot away from him at any time. She nodded her acceptance when introduced, shook their hands. Mickey moved along, aiming for the car that would take them home. The grave diggers had placed a wooden board over the open grave and covered it with a thin green carpet. Angie had the urge to run away, she didn’t know anyone and Beverly and Siobhan had already left in another car. Her instant regret of her selfish thoughts prompted her to thread her fingers into Mickey’s hand and continue to support him.

The car dropped them back at Mickey’s home, they trudged up the steps and Mickey used his key to let them in. He had given Beverly a week off with pay, as he wanted the house to himself and Angie. Mickey had been grateful that none of the mourners wanted to come back to the house, they were happy enough to have a drink at the hotel they had reserved for the wake and go home.

Angie stood at the foot of the stairs and used the banister to balance and she pulled off her shoes. Her new shoes were comfortable, but she preferred bare feet whenever possible. Mickey leant his back against the front door with his head bowed, and he had loosened his tie, undoing the buttons of his jacket. Taking his hat off and putting it on the nearest surface, he smoothed down his hair and looked around the hallway. The table in the foyer of the house had stood empty from the time his mother passed away. It had been her table, where she left her handbag when she returned to the house each day.

Dragging his gaze away from his junior school days, he swept up Angie’s body to her face. Mickey needed to find comfort, for all the wrong reasons, with Angie’s naked body.

“I’m all alone.” He said, holding her gaze.

Angie sprinted to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, cuddling him close to her body. Talking to him, trying to soothe his pain. His arms had remained at his side for a moment before he hugged Angie. Her tiny frame dwarfed by his physique. He quietly sobbed into her hair as he kissed her temple, she felt his tears fall down her face. He pulled away from her to see her face and at that moment, his resolve broke. His lips crashed to hers hard, neither moved, enjoying the intensity of the moment.

“I’m sorry Angie, this is wrong, I’m not in the right place, please walk away from me.” He said.

“Never.” Angie’s resolve resonated through her, she vowed to support this man, to show him he was not alone in the world. “You are not alone Mickey, you have Elijah and Jack, Lilly and Olivia and you also have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed her again, a soft, melting, pressing of lips against hers. He lifted her up and carried her to the stairs, pausing his passionate embrace to shift his hands. Now that she was firmly in his grip he ascended the steps. The staircase curved around to the left and around to another set of stairs. Up he carried her staring at her face, her eyes then her mouth. He didn’t kiss her again until they reached her bedroom. Placing her on the floor he undressed while she stood, confused. Mickey’s tenderness had been left at the front door.

“Turn around Angie and leave your dress on.” He told her.

She slowly turned around, he didn’t notice her frown as she hid her face from him. Guiding her by her shoulders to the chair that was in front of the dressing table, he positioned her, head on to the mirror. The soft padding of the seat back still had her dressing gown thrown over it. Mickey pushed it to the floor.

“Bend over and hold onto the chair Angie.” He commanded.

She did as she was asked, she gripped the arms and rested her torso against the top of the chair, her head dropping until her chin touched the material. The sensation of his hands on her ankles startled her, his hands were cold and gripped hard.

“Spread your legs further apart.”

Again she did as she was asked and stood on her tip toes to remain comfortable. Mickey roughly pulled up her dress he had bought for her and pushed it over her hips to her waist. The material bunched up to reveal her plain black knickers. He wasted no time and pulled them down to her ankles and then to the floor. Standing back up he slapped her bottom cheek hard, her head snapped up and she glared at him through the reflection of the mirror. He didn’t see her expression or hear her response. He slapped her other cheek, the matching hand print glowed red. He slapped her again, this time the underside of her bottom cheeks, he watched as the muscles firmed at his touch. He relished the resolve of Angie’s temperament. He could look at the warming of her cheeks for a while, but his hard erection bobbed and needed to enter her. Using two of his fingers, he swiped at her pussy lips, forwards and then back, delighted that she was wet. Rolling on a condom, he held his cock in his hand and using the other hand he steadied Angie by placing his hand at the base of the spine.

Pushing in all the way he ignored the cry of pain from the woman who had comforted him for the last twenty-four hours. He held onto her hips and repeatedly slammed into her body, relentless thrusting, over and over again. In less than a minute, he cried out his release and pulled away from Angie. As soon as she was free from his hold she wrapped the dressing gown around her half naked body, tying the belt tight.

“Did you enjoy that?” She yelled at him, “Did you get your satisfaction, did you release that pent up grief?” she continued to shout at him.

His stunned expression disappeared after a moment and realisation dawned of what he had just done.

“Get the fuck out of my room.” She said and turned her back. She didn’t take her eyes off him while he picked up his clothes. The crumpled, dishevelled man quietly left the room, whispering an apology before shutting the door.

Angie hastily showered and then gathered her belongings and stuffed them into her travel bag. Throwing it over her shoulder she left the room twenty minutes after Mickey had. She hoped as she ran down the stairs two at a time that he had gone to his room. Reaching the bottom stair, she sat down and laced up her shoes.

Quiet sobs could be heard coming from the room to her right, the study door had been left ajar. Curiosity beckoned her closer, she spied through the open door, a slumped man at his father’s desk. He grasped a letter in his hand, a single piece of thick cream paper with handwritten ink scrawled across the pages.

Indecision played a tune in her head, her mind dancing between leaving him and comforting him. His grief pulled at her conscience and she stepped into the room. Slowly she edged towards the table until she stood before the collapsed man. Gingerly reaching out her hand, she stroked his hair. Mickey jerked upright, dazed and confused, his tears freely flowing down his face.

“I thought he hated me.” Was all he said.

She plucked the piece of paper from his hand and read the words scrawled across the thick embossed writing paper. She slumped in the seat while she read the letter.

My Dear Michael

I promised your mother that I wouldn’t tell you what I am about to say to you until we both passed away.

Your mother and I longed for a baby of our own but sadly it wasn’t meant to be. We embarked on the adoption route, but my job prevented me from being accepted into the program. It broke your mother’s heart. It was a chance meeting that brought you into our lives and I don’t regret a single moment. I know you thought I hated you, but I never did, not once did I think those thoughts.

I loved you the moment I saw you cuddled into your natural mother’s arms. It broke her, to give you up, but she thought that she couldn’t raise you, she was very young and ostracised from her family. It’s the bravest thing I have ever seen happen. I kept a close eye on her and found out who your natural father was. It took a bit of digging and investigation but eventually, a cafe owner told my private investigator about him. Your natural mother hasn’t coped well over the years and never did recover from giving you up.

I tried to get her to come over to Ireland to spend time with you, but I never received a reply to any of my letters. I wrote to her every year, enclosing a picture from your birthday celebrations. I told her about your achievements and milestones, but I think it was too painful for her.

I have deliberated over the years to tell you who she is and each time you asked it tore my morals apart not to reveal who she is. Now that I am no longer with you, I have enclosed her name and address should you want to contact her. She may hate me for doing this act, but I’ll be cold and six feet under, and I figured she can’t hate a dead body for long. I hope that she welcomes you into her arms as she did the day you were born.

I used the little influence I had in the Navy to make sure you were near your family. When I saw Elijah’s name on the list for an interview, I made sure that you two were in the same boot camp. It was up to the two of you to become friends, I had no influence over that part. I’m happy that you both became close.

I’m proud of you son, I’m proud of who you have become.

Dad

The tears dripped off Angie’s chin as she read the separate note with Mickey’s mother’s details. She drew in her breath sharply when she read her name.